On our way, Luke nods to a couple in a booth but doesn’t stop to chat. Something about the man seems familiar, and after we sit down, I put it together.
“Is that Dr. Atwell?” I ask Luke.
“Yeah. And his girlfriend, Jessica.”
I glance back at the table and understand why Luke didn’t stop to chat. Everything about their body language screams that this is an unhappy couple. Jessica seems to be doing most of the talking, illustrating her points with emphatic hand gestures. Her fingernails are painted blood-red, her hair’s platinum blonde, and she just doesn’t seem to fit with Dr. Atwell.
And it’s no wonder it took me a minute to recognize Dr. Atwell, because he looks completely different than he did at the hospital. It’s not only the lack of scrubs, it’s the attitude; this man is sullen. Defeated.
“I think they’re having problems,” Luke says quietly, and I realize I’ve been staring.
“That’s too bad,” I reply. I pick up a menu and resolveto keep my eyes on our own table. Dr. Atwell’s relationship problems are none of my business.
“Know what you want?” Luke asks, gesturing at the menu.
“Maybe the egg white omelet,” I say thoughtfully. After last night’s indulgence atBuona Notte, I need to get back on track.
Luke raises an eyebrow. He’s probably thinking that no one really wants an egg white omelet, and he’s right.
He leans across the table. “Milly,” he says, keeping his voice low. “I plan to take you back to bed this afternoon, and when I do, I don’t want you hungry for anything but me.”
I order eggs Benedict and hash browns.
The rest of the day passes like something out of a movie. We walk back to my house through the university campus, which is at its best this time of year—a blaze of red and yellow leaves against old limestone buildings. As promised, Luke takes me back to bed when we get home, and after we’ve worn ourselves out, we take a nap.
When we wake up, Luke persuades me to model my unicorn Halloween costume, which is a rainbow-colored onesie complete with a tail. After that, I show him how to make peanut butter cookies, and while they bake, he helps me make chicken stir-fry for dinner.
When we’ve finished dinner, we move to the living room and eat warm peanut butter cookies in front of the TV. As I finish my cookie and lick a crumb from my finger, I feel Luke’s eyes on me.
“Upstairs,” he says hoarsely. It’s not so much a demandas a statement of the inevitable, because it’s inevitable that we’ll end up in bed together.
It’s also inevitable that it will be good, and it is.
There are no early visitors to wake us up the next morning, so we sleep late. When we finally wander downstairs for breakfast, I’m in such a good mood that not even a text from Troy can ruin it.
“Your mother again?” Luke teases, as I tap a reply.
“Troy, actually,” I tell him, setting my phone down on the counter.
The change in Luke’s expression is comical. One minute he looks lazy and amused, and the next he looks like a thundercloud.
“What does he want?” he asks suspiciously.
“He wants to talk to me this afternoon, when he drops off the kids.”
Luke’s expression darkens further. “Talk about what?”
I shrug. “He didn’t say. If Claire mentioned I got a teaching job, he may want to renegotiate spousal support or something.”
“Can he do that?”
“I think so. It wouldn’t be an unreasonable request, although he probably thinks I’m earning more than I am.”
“Should you call your lawyer?” Luke seems far more concerned about this than I am. “Or if you can’t get your lawyer on short notice, I could call my mom. This is basically what she does.”
Much as I’d love to see Helen Carlton go toe to toe with Troy in a legal fight, I shake my head. “It’s okay. It might not even be about that.”
Luke frowns. “You want me to stay, talk to him with you?”
